


So Small, So Brave

by PrinceofCinders



Category: God of War, God of War (2018) - Fandom
Genre: Dad of Boy, Family, Flashbacks, Gen, Kratos being a father, Kratos has feelings but cant express them around other people, Parenting skills, dad of war, dad!kratos, mentions of Faye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 04:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceofCinders/pseuds/PrinceofCinders
Summary: As Kratos and Atreus row back to the temple late at night, Kratos reflects on fond memories.





	So Small, So Brave

**Author's Note:**

> This was partially an exercise in tone. I tried to write in shorter sentences to reflect how Kratos might think/talk, so let me know if I was even close to it. It was a lot of fun to write! Originally it was going to be longer, but I felt like leaving it in this drabble-like state would convey the emotions more. This particular fic has been gnawing at me for a while, and since I've finished the game, I've planned on some God of War fatherly bonding moments. Let me know if you guys would be interested in reading more GoW stuff! I know this isn't the biggest fandom in the world, so idk if theres even an audience for this lmao

For once, Mimir was silent as Kratos rowed the canoe along the lake. Unsurprising, since Atreus was fast asleep on the other end, cocooned in furs like a babe.

Atreus. His boy…so tiny, so naive, so pure. Kratos mourns the day that innocence is inevitably lost. Lost in thought, Kratos leans over to gently tuck the edge of a wolfskin tighter under his boy’s chin-Atreus gets terribly cold in his sleep. Always has, since he was born.

Kratos remembers that night fondly. Atreus could not have been older than three years and weighed no more than a kitten. The winter nights were harsh and biting, but the combined efforts of Faye and Kratos kept the cabin full of warmth and bedding to stave off the cold. Faye had been fast asleep, tired from scavenging for roots and tubers. Kratos was awake and watching their son toss and turn between them, his delicate brow furrowed as if in pain. The gruff man frowned and rested one great hand on Atreus’ forehead in a feeble attempt to soothe the distress. The boy woke, big blue eyes blinking blearily at his massive father in the dim firelight. He reached out to the man with hands so small and soft, Kratos feared he would break them; though he feared to hurt his son, Kratos’ love was far stronger and so he reached for Atreus, cradling the child to his broad chest with rough, war-calloused hands. 

Hands he never thought would be able to lift anything other than a sword.

Atreus shivered minutely and curled into his father's warm chest, resting his fine-haired head where he could hear the strong heart of Kratos. A tidal wave of emotions Kratos never thought he could feel again nearly took his breath away, but Faye had taught him to embrace such moments. It was incredibly difficult for the former Spartan, but for his family he would try. He would be better. His son would be better.

Kratos was pulled from his darkening thoughts by another shiver from the child curled on his chest. With one massive arm, Kratos reached for Atreus’ swaddling furs. Though the boy had far outgrown swaddling, they were still the softest and warmest furs they owned, and nothing would bring his boy discomfort if Kratos could help it. With a gentleness he would deny to his dying day, the Spartan tucked the swaddling furs around his child, taking care to tuck the chubby fists under his chin. Thick, calloused hands brushed the whisper-soft auburn hair that adorned Atreus’ head and rested there, guarding the boy as he slept peacefully atop his father. Kratos did not sleep that night, but rather reveled in this rare moment of tranquility in which he was not the Ghost of Sparta, nor was he a God; he was simply a father soothing his child.

Kratos could almost feel the warmth of the fire crackling as he was whipped from his memory by a harsh wind rocking the canoe and ruffling his sons hair. Seemingly scowling at nothing, he forcefully pushed the oar into the lake and rowed with a renewed force, hoping to dock before his son awoke.

“They grow up fast, eh brother?” rumbled Mimir from his seat in between the two Gods. Kratos grunted gruffly, but that was answer enough for Mimir. They both knew he would never speak of the uncharacteristic tenderness of the scowling God. Minutes passed and Kratos docked the boat, stooping down to cradle Atreus in his arms as though he were a newborn. Mimir mumbled something about being too old, but Kratos had not held his son since childhood and knew no other way. Still, he carried him to the forge that was thankfully quiet. The dwarven brothers must be gone on some ridiculous gathering mission. Good; that meant no being would make a scene.

There was a small bed area in the corner, near the flames that treated the weapons. Kratos kneeled down and gently laid his son upon it, taking care to tuck a soft bundle of cloth under his head as a makeshift pillow. The large man absentmindedly brushed his hand through the fine hair once more as he unhooked Mimir from his belt.

“Guard him, head. I do not need to tell you what happens if you fail,” rumbled Kratos ominously. Mimir, too used to this overly gruff form of fatherly protectiveness, simply smiled in agreement and nodded as best he could. Kratos narrowed his eyes, scanning the head until he found something that seemed to soothe him. He grunted and stood, walking to the massive double doors and throwing them wide open, the winter winds biting at his skin. Kratos paid it no mind as the doors shut behind him. There were still many materials to gather from the walking dead in the surrounding islands, but Atreus could sleep. Kratos had no doubt the boy would give him grief for going on an “adventure” without him, brave as the boy was. So brave, but still so small. Like a puppy trying to fight a wolf. He would keep him safe from these wolves, even if only for a night.

Kratos would let him be a boy for another night. There was plenty more time to grow up and face the horrors of world.


End file.
